


Week One- Untitled

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Spn Hiatus Writing Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Week One- Untitled

“Home sweet home,” Dean sighs, dumping his duffel on the kitchen table and sending up a huge cloud of dust.

Sam makes a face. “Better than sleeping in the car again, I suppose.”

“Yeah, my back can’t take much more of that.”

While Sam gets his laptop out and reviews the info on the case, Dean explores the house. There’s two bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom upstairs, as well as the kitchen, living room, and bathroom on the first floor. There’s a door to a basement, but it’s locked and Dean’s not that eager to go down there. Electricity and water are off, sadly. He really misses the bunker.

Each brother takes a bedroom. There are still mattresses in the bed frames, so they can expect a fairly good night’s sleep before they take on the case in the morning.

* * *

You pull into your driveway, humming a little to yourself. When the doctor ordered a six month leave to recover from a gunshot wound, you were more than happy to finally take a long overdue vacation to your parents’ home in Utah, but you’re even happier to finally be home.

Most of your stuff is in storage, as a precaution against burglars, so you’re going to have to spend some time over the next few days bringing it all back. It’s late though. You can’t wait to curl up in your own bed again.

You flip through your key ring as you make your way up the front steps. The familiar weight of your Glock 22 rests against your hip, hidden under your jacket.

The front door is unlocked.

You carefully set down the bag slung over your shoulder as instinct kicks in. You draw your gun, clicking the safety off, and slowly open the door. You can see the glow of a light in the kitchen. You turn the corner into the kitchen to find a huge man with long hair sitting at your table. He’s got a laptop open and what look like police files spread out in front of him, illuminated by a camping lantern.

You take a step forward to point your gun at the back of his head.

“Who are you and why are you in my house?”

* * *

Sam stiffens at the distinctly female voice. When he starts to turn, she speaks again.

“I have a gun pointed at your head. Answer the questions.”

He lifts his hands to show that he’s not armed. “My name is Sam,” he explains. “My brother and I are staying here because we’re out of money. We thought it was abandoned.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“On a food run with the last of our cash.”

“When will he be back?”

“Soon.”

“Alright. Kneel on the floor with your hands behind your head.”

Sam obeys. The woman grabs his wrists and maneuvers his arms down so he can cuff his hands behind his back. Then she pulls him out into the middle of the floor.

* * *

The man, Sam, doesn’t put up a fight. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place his face. Hopefully it will come to you.

You reluctantly lower your gun, though you’re definitely still on edge. Keeping an eye on Sam, you begin rifling through the files on the table.

“Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax.”

You startle a little, taken aback by how serious Sam sounds. “Excuse me?”

He nods at the gun in your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you- it would be difficult anyways- but I don’t mind as long as you don’t actually, ya know, shoot me.”

“I’m not going to shoot you as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

Something on one of the pages catches your eye. “Hold up, these are my files,” you say.

“You’re Officer Fitzgerald?”

“Where did you get these?” you ask, lifting your gun again.

“From Sheriff Adams. He-”

Just then, another man bursts into the room. He’s got a gun- a Colt M1911A1, your subconscious happily informs you- and he’s aiming it at you.

“Drop your weapon,” he says in a low voice, green eyes flashing dangerously. Plump lips are set in a hard line.

“Both of you, stop. This isn’t helping anyone. Look, Officer, Dean and I are hunters. We kill supernatural creatures and-”

“Wait, you’re hunters?” You glance between them. “Do you know what’s killing these people? I was close to figuring it out when I got shot and I couldn’t get a hold of Garth. There’s a six month window between events anyways, but-”

“You know Garth?” the other brother- Dean- cuts in.

“Um, yeah. He’s my little brother. Have you guys seen him? Is he okay?”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but yeah, he’s doing great,” Sam says. “Can we maybe put the guns away and work on figuring out what we’re hunting?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” you say.

Dean tucks his Colt in the waistband of his jeans and you holster your Glock. You remove the handcuffs and help Sam stand.

“Sorry about pointing a gun at you,” you say sheepishly.

He waves off the apology. “We’re the ones squatting in your house. I don’t blame you. Sorry for breaking in. we’ll clear out.”

“I don’t think so. Friends of Garth are friends of mine, and I’m not going to make you leave. Just help me get this place cleaned up and solve this case, and we’ll consider it even. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Dean, you brought food, right?”

“Yeah, but only enough for two-”

You dig some cash, out of your wallet. “Go grab me a bacon cheeseburger and fries from Sally’s on main.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a salute and a cheeky grin.

“Oh, and a slice of cherry pie.”

His eyes light up. “A woman after my own heart. I like you, Officer Fitzgerald.”

“Please, call me Y/N.”

“Alright. Y/N it is.”


End file.
